


When Love has to Wait

by twangcat



Series: Once more is too much and never enough [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Andrew Garner does not exist because I started writing this fic a very long time ago, Angst, F/M, HYDRA is why we can't have nice things, Jasper Sitwell is Not Hydra, M/M, Temporary Character Death, honorable restraint, living in shades of grey, not AoS compliant, pay no attention to MCU timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:44:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5856382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twangcat/pseuds/twangcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Choosing between doing the right thing and having the one you love hurts, and both Phil and Clint are trying to do the right thing. But sometimes knowing what the "right" thing is, is harder than it sounds. In a world where the choices are not always black and white, lines will be crossed and relationships tested. (Please read part one first.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bitter Lie

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this in parts because each of the three "parts" has a bit of a different feel to it, but they really are part of the same story and this will make a lot more sense if you’ve already read part one (it’s also the part with the fun smut) but if you want a refresher before jumping into this one, Phil and Clint got suspended for not following the anti-fraternization rules after kissing once after a mission. Fury has discovered that HYDRA is infiltrating SHIELD and they want to use Phil’s indiscretion to get him fired. Clint and Phil are suspended for two days and spend it together having (hot!) sex and talking. They agree not to be together until the Situation (i.e. HYDRA but Clint doesn’t know that) is resolved. It’s tense at first but they are starting to find their balance. Despite being best friends, Phil has not told Nick the truth about what happened while they were suspended. Natasha knows. (But Natasha always knows so that’s not really a surprise).
> 
> Thank you to everyone for their kudos and wonderful comments, you guys keep me motivated to continue writing!
> 
> And thank you to my wonderful beta Ceria because without her encouragement and feedback this fic would never have been finished.

**Interlude**

In the following weeks, Phil spent a lot of time researching agent movements and assignments. He printed off reports about Agents’ behaviors, he looked for patterns. Who had been where? Where were the known HYDRA bases? Who associated with whom? Which mission teams had improbable results? Where had sure-fire successes turned into complete cluster fucks? If he could pull out names he could trace patterns. HYDRA was a cancer that needed to be mapped within SHIELD before it could be surgically removed. He printed off paper reports of every performance review from the last decade; every mission that had been easier than expected or harder than expected also got a full print off.

On the record, Fury had assigned Coulson to redesign the talent resource management and create and implement a better program for spotting potential early on and mentoring it better. It was the perfect cover because it needed doing and it required the exact same personnel information as his investigation into HYDRA. Digitally he could work on the talent management process in the office and print off copies of the most interesting records without arousing suspicion. After working at SHIELD for his usually 10 to 12 hour day, he would take the paper copies home with him where he would spend another four to six hours reviewing the reports looking for common themes in the names.

January turned into February and he felt like he’d barely scratched the surface. He was burning the candle at both ends but he didn’t know how else to handle this; and, while there were more people he was becoming certain they could trust, it had never been more clear to him how hard it was to prove that a connection between two things DIDN’T exist. Sometimes he felt like he was trying to prove the non-existence of unicorns and it was exhausting.

********************************************

The early morning February air was biting cold, but Phil was grateful for it because the sharp wind was keeping him awake. Phil had been up until 0200 that morning working on his HYDRA map. It was so intricate and proof was frustratingly hard to find. The fact that he’d already identified close to twenty confirmed spies was terrifying. The fact that he didn’t think he’d even begun to scratch the surface made his skin crawl – and gave him the energy to keep working until 0200 before going to bed and setting his alarm for 0500.

Phil missed his subway stop for the Pancake House. The rocking of the subway had lulled him into complacency and he’d forgotten that he wasn’t going straight into the office today. He texted Nick so he would know he was running late, but a tardy Agent Coulson was still unusual.

When he finally arrived at the Pancake House, the heat was a welcome respite from the bitter cold, and as he relaxed in the warmth, his body reminded him that it had been several weeks since he’d gotten enough sleep. Nick was sitting in their regular booth and Phil stifled a yawn as he sat down. “You already order?”

Nick nodded and pushed a cup of coffee towards his friend. “I did, but you look like you need a hell of a lot more than just one coffee.”

Phil scowled at him, but the bleary unfocused look in his eyes took all the heat out of it.

Phil handed Nick a handwritten list of names in cypher and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m making progress, but it’s slow going. Especially now that I think they are setting up some double blinds as traps.”

Nick raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to continue.

“Agent Blake was one of the ones you identified in your first search, but I know him personally and it didn’t feel right, so I did some extra digging. His missions were suspicious, but when I looked closely at those missions I found two other agents who, between both of them, were on all his suspicious missions. They have clean records but they have suspicious social connections, and after I looked into them a bit more, I’m pretty sure those two were purposely setting Blake up to be caught if we ever started looking. HYDRA has layers within layers of their traps. Blake was too easy to catch. I think he was probably set up to be a canary in their coal mine. If we became suspicious he’s one of the ones we were supposed to find and target.”

Phil closed his eyes and took a long drink of the coffee. “That list was twice as long a week ago, but since I started looking for the double blind traps I’ve had to be more careful.” Phil took another long drink and finished his first cup of coffee. “Please tell me you’re making progress on a long-term plan, because I’m starting to doubt my ability to correctly suss out the entire infestation on my own.”

Nick looked over the list he’d been handed and frowned. “We just have to be careful. Move slowly. How are you doing with proving our friends aren’t double agents?”

Phil scowled. “You know it’s not possible to prove that something doesn’t exist, Nick.”

Nick waited for Phil to continue.

Phil huffed. “I’ve checked on Maria, Jasper, Clint, Natasha, and Pierce,” he only hesitated a moment before adding, “and Melinda,” Phil purposefully didn’t look at Nick and continued on business as usual, “they are all coming up clean.”

Nick’s brow furrowed and Phil gave an exasperated sign. “Yes, it’s possible that any of them are sleeper agents, the queen pawns of HYDRA set up purposely to cripple us at a critical juncture, but I don’t think they are and at some point we are going to have to start trusting people.”

“We wait. We wait until we have a full map of all the HYDRA cells within SHIELD. Only then do we start reading other people in. We have to be cautious.”

“Nick!” Phil refrained from actually rolling his eyes in frustration. “There is being cautious and there is being paranoid. This is starting to sound more like the later.”

“We wait, Coulson. You are still sussing out new traps laid by HYDRA. We wait until we know the lay of the land. This is a marathon not a sprint and we need to have all our pieces in place before we make our move.”

“Fine,” agreed Phil with just a hint of bitterness. “So, how are you coming with creating a plan for our pieces?”

Nick looked Phil in the eye and for the first time in months Nick’s eye crinkled into something almost like a smile. “I have a plan.”

Hearing that gave Phil a jolt of adrenalin that woke him up a little bit more. Nick had a Machiavellian mind and when he plotted a plan you knew it was going to be good. He motioned for Nick to continue.

“It’s a twofold plan. The surface level is the Avengers Initiative that we’ve talked about before. It will have trusted people like Hawkeye and Black Widow and we’ll have to invite some wild elements too like Iron Man or Deadpool. I’m going to authorize the team but they are going to be arm’s length from SHIELD, with you as their Handler. It will protect them from HYDRA and give us direct control over them. The second layer I’m calling Guest House.” Casual, as if discussing the weather, he continued, “It’s a resurrection plan.”

Phil sputtered into his second cup of coffee. “Pardon me, sir. Resurrection plan?”

The look in Nick’s eye that was almost a smile became more defined, if it was a smile, it was one that Phil would expect to see on a rabid wolf. “If we’ve got a way to bring back the people on our side and the other side can’t, we are guaranteed victory even if all we have is a small team, because our small team will be infinite.”

“You’re serious.”

Nick handed Phil a file. “The research is still in the testing stages, but we’ve already proven it works. There are some complications with the subjects after they are revived,” Nick made a dismissive gesture, “but I’m sure we’ll find a way around it.”

Phil’s carefully put down his second cup of coffee to make sure he didn’t drop it. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about it? And who else knows?”

“Several people know about different aspects of this project, but it’s all been compartmentalized so that no one understands the scope except the team working on it.”

“Where is the team?”

“Isolated at a base with no communication to the outside world. They know what they are working on, but their guards don’t and there are two layers of guards between the team and the outside world. Only the outside layer is allowed to communicate externally and I’ve taken over screening all their communications.”

Phil whistled and muttered, “Resurrection. Wow.”

“I want you to go out there this weekend. Start to get to know the team and most importantly, run their names through all your tests.” Nick handed Phil a piece of paper. “If anyone connected with this project sets off a red flag for you we’re going to have to turn them or kill them.”

Phil nodded. “I’ll make it my priority.”

*********************************************

Two weeks later, back at the Pancake House, Fury’s patience was starting to wear unbelievably thin. He had been staring down Coulson for three fucking hours and the mild-mannered man was like an implacable stone fortress: completely un-fucking-moveable and unwilling to listen to reason.

Phil repeated himself again, “Director, I don’t think you understand what is happening to these ‘subjects’.”

Nick resisted the urge to either run his hand through the hair that he knew he didn't fucking have anymore or punch the man across the table from him because of his moral high horse. “I’ve _read_ the reports, Coulson.”

Finally Phil’s calm facade slipped a little and he snapped, “Stop reading the reports and listen to what I’m saying! What we are doing with the Guest House project is inhumane. What we are fighting for? It’s not worth winning if this is what we have to do to do it. Shut the project down, Director. It’s not worth it.”

“That’s not your decision to make, Coulson.”

“You asked me to oversee this project and sometimes managing a project means knowing when to cancel it. I cannot in good conscience allow this to continue. This is one of those lines, Marcus, if we cross it, we lose our right to claim the moral high ground and to being the good guys.”

And now they were back to the same battle ground they had been arguing all night. “I don’t care about the ‘moral high ground,’ Coulson; I care about saving the god-damned world from despotic evil overlords who will sacrifice the freedom and free will of everyone for their own end!”

“Director! Look at the slippery slope! This is where the evil overlords start. People aren’t born evil, they become that way through actions, sometimes actions with the best of intentions, and this is one of those crossroads where we need to choose what kind of organization SHIELD is and prove that we are different from HYDRA because we won’t sacrifice and torture our own agents for our own ends.”

“We will not be ‘sacrificing and torturing our own agents for our own ends’ we will be saving them so that they can save the world. And if you think that good men and women don’t get sacrificed in the line of duty every day then you are being wilfully blind. You’ve led men in battle before; I _know_ you’ve had to make that call.”

Coulson’s calm military mask slipped back into place. “Yes, but we do it with careful consideration, when it’s the best of a bad set of options, and those agents go in knowing that there is a chance they won’t come out of it. Guest House is a death sentence, one full of mental and physical anguish for anyone who endures it. We’ve proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that knowing about Guest House makes the outcome exponentially worse. And if it’s our plan for every agent who dies to be put through the Guest House without them knowing what they are signing up for, then that is morally wrong. Marcus, listen to me. I’ve seen it. I’ve spoken to them. What they feel. What they think. It’s torture. We _cannot_ do this to our agents without turning ourselves into the bad guys, and I’m not going to be a part of that. It’s not true to the beliefs of Director Carter and Captain America, it’s not protecting the innocent -- it’s sacrificing the good. It’s not what SHIELD was meant to be.”

It might not be what SHIELD was meant to be, but Fury knew it was what SHIELD had to be if it was going to survive. Fury wanted Coulson on board. Marcus wanted his best friend to have his back. But if Phil was not prepared to support him on this then Nick was just going to have to go it alone. Fuck his moral high ground, if Coulson wasn’t going to support him then Fury would run the Guest House project without him.

Nick held his gaze for a moment longer before looking away. “I’ll table the project,” he narrowed his gaze at Coulson, “for now.” He knew if he gave in too easily Coulson would spot the lie. “You want us to go another way? Give me another option. How’s your map of the infestation coming?”

“Slowly, but I’m still making progress.”

Nick stood to leave. He didn’t have to fake the bitterness in his tone. He wasn’t giving up, but he did feel betrayed. “Well since that’s the only plan you’re willing to accept, you better get your ass going on it.”

“You’ll shut it down, Marcus?”

Nick nodded. “For now.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.


	2. The Rest of It

February turned into March and with the stress of his HYDRA map project and the added fun of Tony Stark, Phil was down to sleeping an average of four hours a night. It was starting to catch up to him. Nick hadn’t mentioned Guest House again, and when Phil had subtly looked into it he’d confirmed that the base where it had been housed was no longer active and the security details had started to be integrated back into SHIELD rosters around the world. It was a relief to know that Nick had done the ethical thing. Sometimes doing things the right way was harder in both the short- and the long-term, but he knew they were both men who believed in doing the right thing. Phil had also redoubled his efforts to map out the HYDRA infestation, but it was still slow going.

It was early Saturday morning and his third cup of coffee had not helped as much as he’d hoped it would – his brain already felt tired. He wanted an hour to take a long hot bath and to spend an evening watching terrible reality TV instead of having to think about spies and double agents. But that was not his life. He made another cup of coffee and was preparing to dive back into work when someone knocked on his door. It sounded like Clint’s knock but Phil grabbed his gun out of habit before opening the door.

Clint was standing on his doorstep looking adorable and uncertain and nervous and it felt like deja vu. “Hi ya, Boss.”

He knew Clint shouldn’t be there but he felt tired down to his bones and, like a marionette playing out some twisted mimicry of the last time Clint showed up at his door, the only response he could think of was: “You shouldn’t be here, Barton.”

Clint smiled shyly up at him, “I know,” and his grin started to look a little flirtatious when he shrugged and finished with, “But I am.”

Phil gripped the door tightly and didn’t step aside this time. He felt so tired; he couldn’t handle resisting what it sounded like Clint was offering right now. Voice tight, he replied, “Please don’t do this, Clint.”

Clint looked like he’d just learned his winning lottery ticket was a fake. “Please, Phil?”

And fuck him if that look didn’t feel like a punch to the gut. There had to be a way he could get out of this conversation without hurting Clint, because he couldn’t bear to be the one who made Clint look so sad. Well, they couldn’t have this conversation in the hallway.

Phil stepped aside and motioned him in. “Come on in. This can’t go the way you want it to, but I can at least make you a cup of coffee.”

Clint closed the door behind him and started to take his shoes off. “I thought since we both weren’t working this weekend…” he trailed off, hoping Phil would fill in the blanks and just let this happen.

Phil had the strongest urge to hug him and kiss away that sad look. He remembered pressing Clint up against that very entranceway while smothering him in hungry kisses after they went grocery shopping and the desire to repeat that scene was intoxicating. “Clint,” he said firmly, “this _can’t_ go the way it did last time.”

“Why not?” He demanded petulantly, “No one is here. No one would know. I miss you! I’ve missed you every fucking night for two months!” He looked Phil straight on and prowled the few short steps towards him. “Why not give me this? Natasha says you still watch me. Do you? Do you still want me?”

Phil put his arm out to stop Clint from reaching him. His heart was racing, he was breathing heavy, and when he spoke his voice was almost a growl. “Clint, every time I see you I want to kiss you and when I think about what you could be doing or who you might have been with, I want to pull you into the nearest office to kiss you until you can’t remember anyone’s name but mine.”

Clint stayed exactly one arm's length away, leaning against the hand splayed against his chest but not forcing Phil to move the arm keeping them apart. His voice was husky, “There’s been no one since you, Phil. I don’t want anyone but you. Please, let me kiss you,” he pleaded. “Make me remember what it feels like to have you inside me, make me cry out your name. However you want me, babe, I’ll do whatever you want, please.”

Phil felt like he was drowning in Clint’s eyes and his words. He looked away to force himself to breathe and his desk, with the mounds of paper work on it, caught his attention and reminded him why he hadn’t allowed himself to kiss Clint for over two months. Keeping his eyes focused on his desk he said, “Clint, what do you know about HYDRA?”

“Huh?” The non-sequitur caught him completely off guard. “HYDRA?”

“HYDRA,” confirmed Phil.

“As in Nazi’s and Captain America villains?”

“Yes, Barton, them.” The distraction was helping and Phil could feel the sexual tension fading a bit. Phil was exhausted and if they were going to do this (or not do this as the case may be), Clint deserved to know why.

“Just that they were Nazi’s and Captain America took them out during World War Two?” He gave Coulson a puzzled look and backed off just enough that although Phil’s hand was still pressed up against his chest, Clint wasn’t leaning against it with pressure anymore. “Coulson, why are we talking about villains from forever ago?”

Phil leaned back against the wall behind him and rubbed the palms of his hands against his eyes. “Call Black Widow, Hawkeye. I’m going to _unofficially_ ” and he stressed the word ‘unofficially’, “read you both in on the Situation.”

“Are you sure about this, Coulson?”

“No. But if I don’t,” he looked back at Clint and licked his lips, “if I don’t, I’m not going to get out of this conversation without kissing you and probably dragging you back to my bedroom for the rest of the weekend; so I’m giving the choice to you, Clint. If you look at me like that and tempt me, I’m going to give in, because you’re right, I think it would be safe at this exact moment, so it wouldn’t actually risk my job; and if you keep begging me to take what I want so badly it hurts…”

Phil exhaled a shuddering breath and let his eyes rake hungrily over Clint’s body. “I’m just a man, Clint, I’m eventually going to give in.” Phil tore his eyes away and forced them back to his desk. “So my alternative is to tell you what the Situation is so I have your support as my friend and my asset instead of you as my temptation and distraction. Inviting Natasha to join us just makes sense because a) you’re going to tell her anyway so I’d rather she heard it from me, and b) she’ll make a good chaperone. So Clint, which is it going to be?”

Phil put his arms down by his side and waited, heart pounding, for Clint to make this call.

Phil knew he was playing a dangerous game. If Clint was HYDRA he might choose sex because it was still a viable option for getting Phil fired. If Clint was HYDRA he might choose to be read in to learn what Phil knew. If Clint was SHIELD he might choose sex because he wanted Phil as badly as Phil wanted him. If Clint was SHIELD he might choose to be read in to support Phil as his friend and handler. This wasn't going to prove anything, but he’d decided that first day to trust Clint, so he was going to trust his archer.

Hawkeye looked Phil up and down. He was breathing heavy and his eyes were slightly dilated. There was a telltale bulge in his pants that looked very promising, and damn it, Clint wasn’t lying, he did miss Phil and he did want Phil! But there were also dark circles under his eyes, tension in his shoulders, an impressive number of k-cup coffee packs on his kitchen counter that spoke to long hours of working at home by himself, and, considering how digital SHIELD was, a surprising number of paper piles on Phil’s desk. Phil didn’t ask for much, or anything, ever. He didn’t complain or push. He took care of Clint as a handler and a friend all the time. Maybe this was the closest Phil would ever come to asking him for help? Damn it, he also wanted to be the guy that Phil went to help. Now that he’d thought it, he wanted that as much as he wanted the kisses, and the touches, and the incredible noises Phil made during sex.

He looked down at the bulge in Phil’s pants again. Would Phil let him suck him off while they waited for Natasha to arrive? Probably not. But even as he thought it, he realized he’d already made up his mind, even if his libido wasn’t on board yet. If Phil was asking him for help, he would not be the guy who didn’t step up and help. He’d never do that to Phil.

Clint took a step back, blew out a hard breath through his mouth, and took out his phone to text Nat. Half distracted by texting, he asked, “I don’t suppose you’d let me blow you while we wait for Nat to arrive?”

Phil could feel his cock twitch at the thought. But his laughter and relief was genuine when he shook his head and responded. “Damn but you’ve got a dirty mouth on you, Barton.”

Clint closed his phone and smiled, “Hey, I’m offering to let you put something in it.”

Phil turned away and groaned, “Not helping, Barton – go take a cold shower if you need to. I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee for all of us.” He started to move off towards the kitchen.

Clint put his arm out to the wall to block his path. “Could make it a hot shower if you join me…”

“Barton...” The warning was clear in his tone and Clint dropped his arm and backed off.

His tone was contrite when he responded, “Sure, I’ll go splash some cold water on my face or something.”

Phil heard Clint go into the bathroom and the sink turn on. He took a moment to palm himself through his jeans just to relieve the pressure. Damn but he wanted to take Clint up on all his suggestions. But this was going to be better, this way he would have more support and Clint wouldn’t be trying to tempt him into trouble.

By the time Natasha arrived, they were sitting on separate couches drinking coffee and midway through a debate about which superhero would be the most successful at SHIELD. Clint thought Batman, with his acceptance of tech gadgets, would be a strong asset, but Phil thought he deserved minimal points for teamwork and that was an important attribute in an Agent. Also, the man had no regard for other people’s property, couldn’t follow orders and couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

When Clint’s laughter cut him off mid rant, Phil looked at him in surprise.

“Sir, are we talking about Batman or Iron Man right now? Because the Caped Crusader? Kinda known for his _lack_ of talking; but Stark? There’s a dude who can’t keep his mouth shut…”

Phil huffed a laugh into his coffee and had the grace to look a little chagrined. He took his glasses off and tried to rub the stress lines out of his forehead. “Tony Stark is either going to end up as the world’s second superhero or the world’s first super villain.”

Natasha opened the unlocked door at that moment and raised an eyebrow at them. She was quite certain she hadn’t received her first invitation ever to Coulson’s home for a discussion about Tony Stark, but she could wait to find out what this was really about.

“Hi ya, Nat, come on in,” welcomed Clint.

“Natasha, good you’re here,” said Phil, rising from his seat to greet her.

She toed off her shoes and helped herself to a cup of coffee while Coulson reset his security system.

Entering the codes into his security wall unit, he was surprised to notice his hands shaking a little. He hadn’t realized how nervous he was about the idea of reading them in. But in the cold light of day, he was about to go directly against Director Fury’s orders – he was going to break a promise he made to his best friend. He could rationalize it as bringing in back up to support their mission; but, even if it was a good idea, at its heart, what he was about to do was break a promise. Nick had always had trust issues, the HYDRA situation had only made him more paranoid and when he found out about this, he would feel betrayed.

Phil knew he could change his mind. He could back away from this precipice and not read them in. But that would put him back where he was now and he knew he was burning out. Would he have made this decision if it wasn’t for Clint? Was he letting his desire for Clint influence a decision that could impact world security? His heart was starting to race and, he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, he flinched when Clint unexpectedly touched his shoulder.

“Hey,” said Clint softly. He didn’t try to turn Phil around to face him, he just let his hand rest on Phil’s shoulder and leaned in to speak quietly in his ear, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He squeezed Phil’s shoulder. “I’ll back off and we can legit watch movies, all three of us, or Nat and I can just leave.”

Phil let go of a deep breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and gave in for a moment to lean back into Clint’s chest. “I wish we could just go back to your original plan,” Phil murmured. It was easier to say it when he wasn’t tempted by actually looking at Clint. “I’ve missed you too, Clint. Every night and every day.”

Clint felt Phil shiver against his chest and he sounded so vulnerable. Clint gave up all pretense of this just being a friendly chat: he wrapped his arms around Phil’s shoulders and tilted his head down to press his nose against Phil’s neck. But he kept it safe, he didn’t kiss, he didn’t lick, he didn’t nuzzle, he didn’t bite and (Clint thought he deserves a special kind of award for this) he did _not_ grind his hips against Phil’s ass. He just gave him a tight squeeze and said, “Whatever you need, Phil, we’ve got you.”

Phil gave himself one more deep breath of resting in Clint’s arms, before he reached up to squeeze Clint’s forearm and pull away, Agent Coulson facade firmly in place.

To give them a sense of privacy, Natasha made herself busy tidying up the coffee cups in the kitchen, but now Coulson asked both Barton and Romanov to join him at his desk.

Once seated at his desk, Coulson took a deep breath and said, “Alright Agents, here’s what you need to know…”

An hour later, their stunned silence had been followed by rapid fire questions, which turned into an intense debate, followed by collaborative planning. Clint and Natasha were both able to contribute perspectives he didn’t have on the unofficial structure within SHIELD and tactics he hadn’t thought to use to suss out more information.

Together they divided up the work. Barton read over the reports looking for statistical patterns and details that didn’t fit. Romanov read through mission debriefs and transcripts looking for diction choices and personality shifts that didn’t feel right. This left Coulson free to focus more on the big picture, looking for the pattern that would reveal HYDRA’s long-term plan and timeline. 

Clint and Natasha took over Phil’s desk and he relocated his work to the living room table. It gave him more space to spread out his visual diagram of SHIELD and map of post-it notes he was using to track HYDRA actions and suspected plans. It was significantly more work than could be accomplished in one day; but they were Strike Team Delta and it was easy for them to turn Phil’s condo into their new base of operations.

A little before lunchtime, Phil stretched and called a break. They could all work for twenty-four hours straight, and if it was necessary they would, but this was a marathon not a sprint and that meant regular breaks.

Phil looked at his team and felt warmth flow through him. They were loyal. They might not be ‘yes men’ dedicated to SHIELD in their bones, but they were loyal to him and they were the best. Together they were going to save SHIELD. He’d tell Nick after it was done. For now, this was his executive decision and while he was a man who prized decisions made with intellectual forethought and consideration, he also knew instinctively that this was the right one.

“Lunch is on me today, what do you want? Pizza or…” His eyes drifted to Clint and he remembered cooking in his kitchen with Clint. He didn’t have food on hand, but they could go grocery shopping…

Natasha interrupted his reverie, “Order pizza, Coulson. We don’t have time for a Clint special today.”

“Aww, Tasha,” pouted Clint.

“We can come prepared next time, little bird, for now we have work to do.”

“Natasha’s right,” responded Phil, “Romanov: spicy sausage, pineapple, and extra cheese; Barton: pepperoni, green peppers, and extra mushrooms; I’ll get extra cheesy bread too; anything else?”

Clint beamed up at Phil; he knew it was stupid and it was just Phil being Phil, but it meant so much to him that he remembered little things like how Clint liked his pizza. “Nope, sounds like you got us nailed, boss.”

Phil got a little lost in Clint’s smile. He knew every smile that man had, from his sullen smirk when he was first recruited, to his bashful grin when he was praised, but the full wattage beam was the rarest of them all and seeing it directed at him just made his day.

Natasha made a noise. “You two are a disaster. How do you manage to not walk into walls around each other at work?”

“Aww, Tasha!” Clint cringed and kicked her under the desk for good measure.

Phil’s ears turned a little pink. “Yes, well, ummm,” Phil opened up a new window on his computer, “I’ll just order the pizzas now, shall I?”

They took a brain break over lunch and talked about anything not related to the mounds of paperwork sitting on Phil’s desk; but after lunch it was back to work.

At precisely 1700 Phil’s phone beeped, he put down the papers he was reviewing and rubbed his eyes. “Alright, let’s wrap this up for today. You need to leave soon if you’re going to take the train home.”

Clint looked slyly at Natasha, who responded with a raised eyebrow. Clint kicked her ankle under the desk and Natasha slid her gaze over to Phil.

Natasha rolled her eyes and stood up. “I’m going to go to the bathroom; you boys can figure it out.”

Phil looked over at Clint (who was notably refusing to meet his gaze) and waited for a translation of their silent dialogue. Once Natasha was out of the room, Clint walked over to the couch where Phil was working and moved a pile of paper so he could sit down beside him. “Soooo…”

Phil raised an eyebrow and waited for Clint to continue.

“We’re going to be coming back tomorrow, right Boss?”

“Probably,” replied Phil carefully.

“So it would make more sense if we just stayed here tonight.” He bumped his knee against Phil’s and let his hand slide over so it was resting on Phil’s thigh.

Phil’s tone was very firm and he said slowly and precisely, “I could move the table so you _both_ could use the sofa bed.”

Clint purposely refused to take the hint and leaned in so his breath tickled Phil’s ear. “Or Natasha could take the couch and you could take me to your bed... I haven’t been fucked in two months, Phil.”

He slid his hand further up Phil’s thigh. “Nobody’s touched me, nobody’s kissed me. Every night it’s just me, fucking my fist, thinking about you. Remembering what it felt like to have your hands on me, to have your cock inside me.” He took a breath. “I know the risks now and what’s at stake, but it’d be safe right now, nobody would know, and,” Clint tempted, “you could make me scream out your name again. Do you remember what it felt like to kiss me quiet?” Clint shifted suddenly to straddle Phil and capture his lips in a hungry kiss.

Phil moaned into the kiss and it was just like Marcy all over again. The overwhelming desire of feeling what he’d wanted so badly for so long, it short-circuited his brain so he couldn’t think beyond his hunger for the man in his arms. He rolled his hips against Clint and was rewarded with a groan. He held Clint’s head and ravished his mouth, tasting, claiming, and chasing the memory sensations that had been consuming him since he’d had his first taste, trying to quench the fire of desire that had been burning in him for months. But it wasn’t enough.

Phil stood up and forced Clint to slide off him, then he was pulling Clint with him to shove him against a wall. He covered Clint’s body with his own. He ground their hips together and fucked Clint’s mouth with his tongue, stopping only to gasp in air. Clint whimpered against lips and moaned as his cock throbbed harder with every thrust of Phil’s hips. “Please, babe,” he panted, “take me to bed. I need you!”

Phil broke away to catch his breath, but he could feel Clint’s hard cock through his jeans and couldn’t stop himself from continuing to rub against it. “Oh, Clint.” he panted, “We have to stop.” He groaned, “You don’t know what you do to me. How badly I want to--” He cut himself off by fiercely capturing Clint’s lips in another bruising kiss.

But suddenly Clint felt cold air where Phil’s hot body had been and Phil wasn’t clutching at him anymore, he was part way across the room with the table between them, still breathing heavily but keeping his distance.

His voice was rough and husky. “I can’t do this, Clint.” He ran his hands down his shirt, trying to put himself together and ground himself. “I want you too much to have you in tiny bits. It’s a slippery slope and you are going to be here a lot more while we work on this. If we don’t stop now, this,” he gestured between them, “is going to happen every time, and then we’ll find other safe spaces, and I’ll get used to touching you, until one day one of us slips up and does or says something against regulations in the workplace. And we just can’t. Please, Clint?”

Clint scrunched up his eyes and balled his fists. Fuck! He didn’t want to stop. He wanted Phil. He was achingly hard. He wanted Phil on his knees sucking him off, he wanted to feel Phil behind him, pounding into his ass until he saw stars, he wanted to wake up with Phil the next morning and have lazy morning sex. But that wasn’t the way this was going. He could see what Phil was saying made sense and he had to respect what Phil was asking for. He repeated his thought from earlier that day ‘He would never be the guy who wasn’t there when Phil asked.’

“Okay,” Clint said, “Okay.” He raked his fingers through his hair and took a steadying breath. “Okay. So I take the couch tonight?” Desire still burning in his eyes, his gaze ate up the image of debauched Phil in front of him. “And I want to go take a fucking shower now,”

Phil opened his mouth to say something but Clint cut him off gruffly, “A fucking shower by my fucking self to calm down!” He looked away and took another deep breath. “Sorry.” He said tersely. “I know it’s my own fault I’m so damn frustrated.” He took a breath and continued more calmly. “We can’t do this. I get that. And what you say makes sense. But… but can we have something more than nothing?” His tone turned pleading, “Can I make you breakfast in the morning? And can you make me coffee before I’m awake and fill your kitchen with food I can cook for you? Can we have the rest of it, Phil?”

Phil’s breath caught. God he was so gone on this man who wanted to stay and do all of those domestic things even if they couldn’t have everything they wanted. The desire to have Clint in every way surged through him. He could. Clint wouldn’t resist him and Natasha wouldn’t stop them. He took a step towards Clint, before he could stop himself. His voice was gruff when he finally found words. “Yes. Yes, to all of that.” He turned his aborted movement towards Clint into a movement towards his bedroom. “But I’m going to need a few minutes. Go take your shower, Barton.”

Phil closed the bedroom door behind him and turned on the TV for noise. Hell, but he wanted Clint. He took himself in hand and fucked his fist ruthlessly. Clint’s lips, his smell, his cock; he didn’t have to think about Clint for long before he was spilling his seed into the tissues he was holding. It was unsatisfying and felt cold compared to the heat from a few minutes ago. He could hear the shower running and knew what Clint was doing in there. He felt a jolt through his spent cock at the thought and grimaced. It was a sign of how far gone he was that a full orgasm was less interesting than the idea of a shower with Clint. Phil put himself back together as best he could and went back to the living room to face Natasha.

Natasha eyed him up and down and smirked.

“I don’t want to hear it, Romanov,” warned Phil.

Natasha’s eyes started to sparkle in a way that could only mean trouble for someone, but she held up her hands in a gesture of peace. “Okay, I won’t push, Coulson.”

“Thank you.” He took a steadying breath. “Tea?”

Natasha’s eyes danced but she just said, “So, Clint is going to stay the night?”

“You both are.”

“Does he know that?”

Phil shook his head ruefully and barked a laugh. “He might not right now, we didn’t do a very good job of using our words,” he shivered at the memory of what they had done instead, “but when he’s thinking more clearly he’ll realize it only makes sense if you both stay. On the couch.” he amended.

He continued, “If you’re okay with staying? Usually I would offer you both my bed and take the couch, but,” he chuckled ruefully, “under the circumstances, I think it’s better if we collectively work to keep Clint out of my bed.”

Which of course was the moment Clint walked into the conversation, dressed but with glistening skin and still towel-drying his hair. “Aww, Boss.” he teased lightly, “Are you conspiring to keep me out of your bed?”

Phil refrained from rolling his eyes. “Yes, Clint. That is exactly what I’m doing.”

“It’s a good plan,” replied Clint slightly more seriously. “Nat, are you good to stay here tonight, on the couch, with me?”

Nat gave him an appraising look before giving a satisfied nod. “Okay, but I want omelettes for breakfast.”

Clint rolled his eyes, “You always want omelettes for breakfast, Nat.”

Natasha gave him a self-satisfied smirk. “I always want _your_ cheese omelettes for breakfast, but you always want to experiment with breakfast food; so that’s my chaperone fee. I get cheese omelettes.” She looked like the cat who got the cream and the canary.

Clint smiled fondly, “Okay, you’ll get your omelettes. Can I at least experiment with the cheese?”

“Next time,” bartered Natasha. “This time I get mine with just cheddar cheese.”

Clint looked at Phil and gestured to Natasha as if to say ‘see what I have to deal with?’

Phil was openly grinning at the pair of them and offered, “You can make me whatever kind of omelette you want, Clint.”

Natasha groaned, “You have no idea what you’re saying, Sir.”

Clint gave him an appraising look. “How experienced are you with omelettes, Sir?”

Phil gave him a blank stare. “Experienced? Well, I sometimes order a western omelette at the diner.”

Clint shook his head in disappointment. “That just won’t do. I can’t start you on experimental omelettes if you don’t have a basic understanding.”

Phil looked at Natasha as if to say ‘is he serious?’ and Natasha just laughed. “You offered. And if you take it back now it’ll just break his heart.”

Phil’s eyes snapped back to Clint and his words came out more intense and heated than he intended. “I won’t take it back.” Their eyes locked and it was like everything outside of them disappeared for a moment.

Natasha broke the spell by throwing a throw cushion at each of them and muttering, “Walk into walls. How do you two not walk into walls?”

Clint tried to laugh and looked down at his feet while rubbing the back of his neck. “Umm right, so we need groceries.”

Phil nodded his head sharply and said, “Yes, food. What do you want for dinner, Agents?”

Clint had already moved into the kitchen and was rifling through Phil’s cupboards. “You really don’t have much to work with, Phil.”

Phil joined him in the kitchen and started opening up some of the cupboards he thought Clint might find more promising.

Clint sniffed and grimaced at one of Phil’s spice jars. “These are so old, Phil, I wouldn’t even use these in a crock pot recipe.”

Phil took the container from Clint’s hand and put it back. “I’ll buy more for you to cook with next time,” he said, and he heard Clint’s breath catch.

“Did you mean it Phil?” He whispered. “I get that that was the worst possible time to have a relationship conversation, so…”

Phil’s whispered response was intense. “I meant it.” He felt Clint shiver beside him. Phil’s tone was that of a man making a solemn vow. “There won’t be anyone else for me and I’ll fill this kitchen with everything you want. I’ll make it as good for you as your own. I’ll--” Phil cut himself off. He was not going to promise to make his home into Clint’s home.

“I’ll make you coffee in the morning and buy that ridiculously sweet hazelnut creamer you secretly like. While we are here, Clint, I will give you ‘the rest of it’. ”

Clint let out a shuddering breath. He had to remember to breathe. He stuttered and deflected badly, “I don’t like that creamer, it’s just the best of a bad lot.”

Phil was sorely tempted to lean into Clint’s neck and whisper that nobody liked that creamer, but somebody kept finishing it and Phil knew that Clint drank more coffee on the days it was in stock. But that would not be productive to their ‘the rest of it’ agreement. So he backed off a few inches from their whispered conversation and said in a normal tone, “I’ll buy it for now, but if you decide there is another one you like better, let me know and I’ll get it instead.”

Clint shook his head a little, trying to shift his headspace away from Phil’s earlier promises. “So… How about pasta and sauce for dinner? You have some pasta that isn’t completely stale and I can buy the stuff to make simple tomato sauce. Make some quick garlic bread and,” he tapped his fingers against his lip as he thought, “think we could get a tiramisu from your grocery store for dessert?”

Phil shrugged. “We can try? I don’t know if they carry it.”

“Okay, we’ll do that, and pick up the stuff for breakfast and sandwiches for lunch tomorrow. I’m guessing you’re going to kick us out before dinner on Sunday?”

Phil nodded, “It would be best. I’m going to sell this to the Director as a team building idea and promise him that Romanov is playing chaperone.” He quirked an eyebrow. “The irony is that the second part is the part that’s actually true.”

Natasha appeared beside him and gave him a quizzical look, “Why not tell him we’re helping with the Situation?”

Phil looked them both in the eye, making sure they understood what he was saying. “Our agreement was we would wait until he had a solid map of the HYDRA infection before we started to bring anyone in. As far as I know, he hasn’t even read in Deputy Director Hill yet. We are playing our cards very close to our chest on this one.”

Clint spoke first. “Team building it is. We’ve got your back, Sir.”

Natasha nodded her agreement.

They decided that, with this cover story, it made the most sense if they all went grocery shopping together. It was similar to the last time Phil went grocery shopping with Clint. This time though, when Clint started to add more than a few things that weren’t on the list, Phil stopped him. He gently took the spice bottle from Clint’s hand and said carefully. “You don’t need to get that today, Clint. I’ll take care of it later.”

Clint bit his cheeks to stop himself from smiling and Phil put back the fresh cumin Clint had been about to add to the cart. Natasha dropped a big block of cheddar cheese into the cart and muttered something about walls that made them all laugh.

Back at Phil’s apartment, Clint cooked and insisted that both Natasha and Phil keep working. Clint promised he’d make real spaghetti sauce for them another time and Natasha hummed in appreciation. Phil said he was looking forward to it and tried not to grin too broadly. After dinner, Phil wouldn’t let Clint help with clean up. “You cooked, I clean.” He smiled and lowered his voice a bit, “We share. That’s part of ‘the rest of it’.” Clint gave him a bashful little grin and wouldn’t meet his eyes. Phil continued, “When we cook together, we can clean up together.”

The smile warmed Phil’s heart, and he knew it would have been better if he could fold Clint up into his arms and kiss him thanks for dinner, but the smile was good – it was really good (and he was pretty sure he had an equally sappy smile on his face).

Clint’s voice was bashful, “Okay, Phil.”

Phil tried to put a bit of Agent Coulson back into voice. “I’ll do clean up, Agents, let’s try to get a few more hours of work in before we call it day.”

They worked well into the night, and it wasn’t until long after the sun had gone down that Phil called it a day and thanked them both for their hard work. They cleaned up so that no trace of the day’s work could be seen and Phil made everyone a cup of chamomile tea. They chatted through some of their theories and brainstormed ideas for so long that it was almost midnight before they actually turned in, but it was a good day.

Phil slept easily knowing that Clint and Natasha were in the next room. Clint casually suggested to Natasha that he should go check on Phil, but the painful punishment she promised if Clint disrupted the very fragile equilibrium he was building with Phil made him laugh and persuaded him that letting her be the big spoon to keep him in place all night was a perfectly reasonable option.

 

* * *

 

Phil woke up at 0630 and luxuriated in the late morning. He quickly remembered Clint and Natasha in the next room but felt no remorse about reading them in. He twinged with regret that Clint was out there instead of in his bed; but the bashful smiles that made his heart flutter and filled him with gentle warmth were good compensation for it.

He padded out to the kitchen and saw that Natasha and Clint both still sleeping. Clint was lying on his back and had shoved off most of his covers. Natasha's head was resting on his bare chest, her arm lying over his stomach and their legs were completely intertwined under the covers.

That image made the gentle warmth feel like a less satisfactory form of compensation. He stood there looking his fill for longer than he knew was appropriate, before he was interrupted by Natasha stating softly, “I’m not going to fall back asleep while you’re watching us.”

Phil blushed and was grateful for the darkness. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I don’t sleep through much, Phil, unlike this lug.” She gave Clint a fond pat as she began to extricate herself from him.

“Would you like coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.” She looked between him and Clint and said with mock seriousness, “Can I leave you two alone long enough to take a shower?”

He replied with a similar tone, “Yes, I think I can restrain myself from assaulting him in his sleep.”

A noise came from the sleeping body on the couch that sounded like a mumbled, “Does it matter if I wish you wouldn’t?”

Phil chuckled warmly, but retreated towards the kitchen. “Maybe you better not take a long shower, Natasha?”

Natasha smirked, but moved efficiently toward the bathroom.

Phil did his best to ignore the semi-sleeping man on his couch and busied himself making coffee. Just as the delicious smell of coffee was starting to waft through his apartment, Natasha emerged from the bathroom, somehow looking like she’s had an hour to gussy herself up instead of a short 15 minutes.

Phil poured a cup of coffee for Clint and put it on the end table beside the couch. He nodded to Natasha. “Would you finish waking him up while I take a shower?” He broke eye contact and looked down at the cup of coffee, “And, errr, you could tell him that I made him the coffee?”

Natasha gave him a flat look. “Tell him that you made the coffee?”

Phil nodded.

“Part of ‘the rest of it’?”

Phil blushed a little but nodded again.

“I’ll tell him, but you both better get your reactions to ‘the rest of it’ under control before you go back to the office.”

Phil nodded again. “We won’t do it in the office, just here. And if I forget, well it’s not that unusual for me to do things like bring either of you coffee or food and vice versa,” he shrugged, “it’s much less of a risk.”

Natasha nodded. “I’ll watch you both.”

By the time Phil got out of the shower, Clint was up drinking his coffee and starting to putter in the kitchen making omelettes.

The rest of the day proceeded much as the previous day had. They worked in the morning; took a break for lunch, which they all made together; and shared ideas while they worked. Phil somehow noticed every time Clint finished his coffee and brought him another one, and if he was a little less attentive to Natasha, he did bring them both a plate of cookies. Every now and then, Phil or Clint would catch the other one looking, and one of them would smile a little, then the other would smile a little more, until by increments they were both just staring at each other across the room, grinning and blushing like a pair of teenagers. Natasha put up with it at first, but after a while she took to kicking Clint under the desk or asking Phil a question when it went on too long.

Clint put up a token protest about leaving before dinner, but they all knew it was the right thing to do. Phil hugged Natasha goodbye, and that left him facing Clint not sure how to proceed, but Clint took the decision out of his hands by wrapping him up in a strong embrace that was much more than friendly. He murmured in Phil’s ear, “Just while we’re here,” and ran his hands over Phil’s back, molding their bodies together and breathing in the scent of Phil.

Phil returned the embrace but only let it go on for a few breaths before he started to loosen his arms. Clint couldn’t stop the small whine of protest that escaped and Phil clutched him closer for one more moment before letting go.

“Goodbye, Clint.”

“Goodbye, Phil.”

“Clint,” Phil stopped him before he turned away, “You know tomorrow, it’s going to be the same as last week. I’m not being cold; it’s how it has to be.”

“I know.” He gave Phil a resolute look, “And it helps that I understand why now. It’s okay. I’ll be good.”

Phil smiled at him. “I know I can count on you.”  He looked up at Natasha too, “I know I can count on both of you.”

After they left, Phil tidied his apartment and cleaned up all the evidence of their visit and their project. By the time he was done he was confident that if HYDRA showed up tomorrow they would find nothing to make them suspicious. The last thing he did before going to bed was text Nick and ask him to meet for breakfast at the Pancake House for a low priority chat.


	3. A Line I Won’t Cross

Fury watched from across the street for Coulson to arrive at the Pancake House. A last-minute request for a breakfast meeting had never heralded anything good and Phil’s cryptic comment that it was for a ‘low priority chat’ was confusing. Confusing rarely heralded anything good. Fury had staked out the Pancake House for an hour before their meeting looking for signs it could be a set up or that Coulson was under some kind of duress, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary before or after Coulson arrived.

He was sitting in their usual booth so Nick slid into the seat across from him and waited from him to speak. Coulson acknowledged him with a nod and began to casually peruse the menu (a menu that Nick knew he had memorized and hadn’t changed in years).

As the silence began to drag Nick scowled at him and said, “So why are we here, Coulson?”

Coulson gave him a diplomatic smile, “I just wanted to make sure I was the one to tell you so that you didn’t freak out.”

Nick’s scowl deepened. “I don’t ‘freak out’. And I most certainly don’t freak out over low priority items. Spill it, Coulson, before you ruin my appetite.”

Coulson took a long sip of his coffee. “Clint and Natasha spent the weekend with me and stayed over at my condo.”

Nick’s scowl turned into a full on glower.

“Nothing happened,” said Phil defensively. “I just wanted to make sure you heard it from me rather than anyone else. But,” he added, as if it were an afterthought, “if you do hear of it, be sure to let me know who from, anyone stirring up that kind of trouble is probably connected to our infestation.”

Nick was trying very hard not to be upset. What the hell was Coulson doing risking his job for a sleepover party? He wanted to believe that his friend had a good reason for doing something that sounded so incredibly stupid because Coulson wasn’t usually a man that took stupid risks but this defied logic. “Explain.” he growled.

“It was a team building exercise.”

Nick barked a bitter laugh. He could practically hear the question mark that should have punctuated that weak justification. He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but no more damn sleepovers, Coulson. You hear me?”

“He literally slept on the sofa bed with Natasha!” defended Coulson.

“I don’t care. It doesn’t look good and you need to keep up appearances.”

“No, Nick. I’m not giving you this one.”

“Excuse me?” Nick dragged out every syllable, the warning clear in his voice.

Coulson was resolute. “What you and I are doing is important. You know I’m working on it and we’re making progress. I’m also following the letter of the law in our rules. You don’t get to ask more of me than that.”

Fury was livid. “You think rules and regulations matter in times like this? This is the fate of SHIELD itself, I get to ask for whatever I damn well need from me, you, and anyone the fuck else we know is loyal to SHIELD!”

Coulson shook his head. “No, Sir.” He continued carefully but firmly, “This is one of my lines. What I’m doing is NOT harmful to SHIELD or our mission and I’m not going to give it up. We are fighting for our ideals – and you _know_ I would give my life for them – but it’s nice to have something more tangible than that to fight for, to live for. He’s someone I want to make the world better for and that gives me more strength and more courage to do what needs to be done. I’m following the letter of the law, but I will _not_ give up more than that. Do not push me on this. You won’t like the result.”

“Are you threatening me, Coulson?”

“No, Sir, I’m giving you a reality check. You are the Director not the Dictator and we are dancing dangerously close the line the separates careful from paranoid. I know we said we’d wait, but we need to seriously consider broadening the scope of our team. Read in Maria, Jasper, Clint, Natasha, Pierce, and a few others whom we are sure we can personally trust.”

“I can’t trust anyone,” growled the Director.

Phil hesitated a moment before responding, “That’s not the Marcus I know.” Nick flinched a little. For decades he’d thought of Phil has his best friend and in one-on-one conversations like this they usually used their old army nicknames, but Coulson hadn’t called him Marcus since their argument about the Guest House protocol and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed their usual rapport.

Nick forced himself to relax a little. Even if they weren’t on the same page about the Guest House protocol, he could still trust Cheese. He reminded himself that this wasn’t a man he needed to protect himself against. He sighed. “Well the Marcus you knew fucked up protecting the organization that is supposed to be keeping the world safe, so forgive me if I’m not eager to trust his judgement.”

“…. This isn’t your fault, Marcus.”

“Well whose fucking fault is it? The fucking Easter Bunny? I’m the Director, Cheese. The mother fucking buck stops here.”

Nick could practically see his friend reassessing the situation and factoring new information into his response. Fuck. Coulson really was like a robot sometimes. It took a hell of a lot to get an emotional reaction from him and he never spoke before he was sure what he was going to say. It made him a reliable Agent and the best possible choice to be his second – and that was what made this whole Barton situation so fucking confusing because it made Coulson act like someone other than the Coulson he’d trusted to have his back for years.

When Coulson spoke again his voice had a measured tone that Nick knew he usually used when debriefing after a bad op. “I’d say HYDRA looks like a good place to start with laying the blame. And the agents we’ve identified? Most of them have been SHIELD agents a lot longer than you’ve been the Director. We could blame your predecessor, but you know what? I think he was a pretty good guy too. I’ve always been a fan of blaming the people who do the harm; not the ones who get hurt. There are two kinds of people you can blame when something bad happens, Marcus, the bad guys and the good guys who saw what was happening and did nothing. We aren’t either of those.”

Nick frowned. Coulson was distracting him from the topic they needed to be discussing. This meeting wasn’t about Nick’s trust issues, it was supposed to be about Phil’s temporary loss of sanity in all questions relating to Barton. He deflected, “Maybe not, but if we – and by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’ – knowingly do something so stupid that it gives HYDRA a chance to gain more power, that’s just as bad as doing nothing if not worse.”

Coulson’s voice had lost most of its warmth when he responded, “Spending time with Clint and Natasha outside of work hours is not going to give more power to HYDRA.”

“Damnit, Cheese!” Nick banged his fist on the table. “This isn’t like you! Is his dick made of fucking vibranium or something that you’d risk giving HYDRA even the smallest bit of evidence to use against you and get you fired? Now is a time to be extra cautious, not throw caution to the wind! Why can’t you see that? I’ll get you a fucking boy toy if that’s what you want, blond hair, big muscle arms. Someone you can fuck whenever you want without risking your job and our best chance of saving SHIELD.”

Phil didn’t even flinch but his voice was cold like ice. “No, Marcus. I’m not going to give you this one.”

Fury straightened his leather duster, squared his shoulders, and stared down the mild-looking man in front of him. “Agent Coulson, are you refusing to obey a direct order from your commanding officer?”

Still seated, Coulson managed to give the appearance of snapping to attention. “No, Sir. I will obey every order that is not a violation of our employee policies.” He met Fury’s glare without blinking, “But I’m not in violation of any rule in our rulebook and you can’t phrase an order to prohibit who I platonically spend time with when I’m off duty that won’t put you in violation of one of those rules. You’re out of line, Director, and you need to pull yourself together.”

“I’m out of line? You fucking bastard. I’m not the one thinking with my fucking dick when world security is on the line. You might be able to quote procedure at me to wriggle your way into making the rules support you, but that doesn’t mean that in spirit you aren’t wrong.”

Coulson’s facade cracked a little and he snapped, “Fuck you, Nick! I’ve got your back and you know it.”

“My back?” Nick gave a bitter laugh and sneered, “You didn’t have my back on the Guest House protocol. Face it, Coulson, ever since you started obsessing over Barton you haven’t had your head in the game. I’m starting to wonder if you wouldn’t risk even SHIELD to get your precious archer into your bed.” Nick was pissed. Coulson had been his right hand since he was appointed Director and his best friend for decades before then. Losing that support now, when everything was already in jeopardy was fucking terrifying.

Phil’s voice was cold and quiet. “You blind bastard. The only reason I don’t have Clint in my bed is because I am trying to help protect SHIELD. So don’t tell me I’ve got my priorities wrong or I’m not loyal to SHIELD above anything else.”

“You’ve already proven you aren’t because you won’t give him up!”

“Show me one shred of evidence that maintaining a friendship with him is dangerous to SHIELD and,” Phil’s breath caught in his throat but he pushed through, “and I will. Marcus, I swear I will. I had your back in Burma when everything around us was burning and I walked into that fire because someone had to to save the mission. If giving up Clint would save the mission, I would do it, but you’re acting on fear, not intelligence, and that’s not a sound way to plan a strategy.”

Nick knew the man across the table from him, knew all of his tells and every one of his instincts was telling him that his friend wasn’t lying to him. He needed to trust this man. Phil was his best friend. He _had_ to believe that Phil was on his side. “Are you sure, Phil?”

Phil gripped tightly at his coffee cup and looked Nick in the eye. “It would hurt like fucking hell, I would feel like I was giving up half the light of the world, and after this weekend – which was strictly platonic you skeptical bastard – I don’t think he would forgive me for it; but yes I would. Is that what you needed to hear, that SHIELD really still was my first priority?”

“I’ve seen you with boyfriends before, Cheese, I’ve seen you with unrequited crushes, and I’ve seen you in serious relationships; but I’ve never seen you like this. You can’t tell me that you would be trying to maintain even a friendship with any of those men if we were talking about them instead of Barton.”

“No,” he dragged out the word as he slowly shook his head. “I don’t think I would.”

“So you’ve known Barton for years. Why are you suddenly acting like it’s your first time being invited to a dance and why did this happen now? You can’t honestly tell me the timing hasn’t struck you as suspicious.”

Phil’s lips quirked up into a sad smile. “You’re about two months behind me on that particular theory. I had a moment of very undignified panic over lunch when he stayed with me while we were suspended. I tested him then in person and he was the first person I ran through my system checks. But he has no red flags and,” Phil took a breath, “I _know_ him, Marcus. God help me I think I might be in love with him and I can’t believe I would love someone who was traitor, my taste in men hasn’t always been perfect, but it’s never been that bad.”

Nick was incredulous. “You think you might be in love with him but you’re happier doings this weird strictly platonic friendship and chaperoned sleepovers than you would be just waiting? Isn’t it worse having him so close but not being able to actually have him?”

Phil looked him up and down. “Who are we right now, Nick? Because I can defend my choice logistically to my boss or I can talk about this with my friend, but I can’t do both at the same time.”

“As your boss I’ll make you this deal: keep it strictly platonic, don’t fuck up the investigation and we’ll be fine. But stop pushing to read him or anyone else in. We wait until the map is complete. We can’t risk any kind of breach; the consequences would be too severe.”

Phil nodded. “Deal.”

Nick sat back and picked up his cup of coffee. It was a careful balance, keeping Phil distracted enough about Barton that he didn’t look closely enough to find where he’d hidden the new Guest House protocol, but not so distracted that he wasn’t focused on his mission. Also, he missed his friend; and, if this also made his friend happy, well, unless it was actually detrimental to his goals, Nick would like Phil to have some happiness. He’d given up his hope at love a long time ago but Phil had never even had a chance; if Nick could make it happen, Phil would at least get a chance at love. “Okay, then tell me about your,” his lips twisted in confusion, “I’m not sure what to call him in relation to you.”

Phil gave him a shy smile. “I don’t think there’s a word for what we are to each other, but I did promise him that there wouldn’t be anyone else for me.” Phil started to gush, “Did you know he can cook? He loves it and the food he makes is better than anything you could get at a restaurant.” Phil looked down at his coffee cup and his ears started to go a little pink. “He’s a little goofy when he wakes up. On missions he wakes up instantly, but when he’s relaxed he sleeps more soundly and he didn’t wake up right away yesterday when I walked into the living room. Christ, but he looked good just lying on the bed. And he mumbles his words a little when he’s first waking up. It’s more adorable than anyone has a right to be, Marcus.”

Nick’s gut twisted a little bit. He’d never seen his friend so besotted and he couldn’t imagine being in love with someone and not touching them. When Nick first met Melinda, the sparks had flown and they’d fought about everything, when the sparks changed, they’d been fucking on every surface they could find long before they had realized they were in love. He always thought sex was always a fundamental part of a relationship and the idea of loving someone but not fucking them, not even touching them, was just baffling. “Cheese, are you sure this is better for you? Wouldn’t it be easier to keep your distance until it could be something real?”

“Easier? Maybe. But better? Definitely not. We don’t work in very safe jobs. If something happened to one of us tomorrow, I would rather that I’d had the soft ache of seeing him without having him than the void of not even that much contact.”

Nick just shook his head. He couldn’t understand having someone he wanted close by but not having them. Maybe this was a gay thing? Being in love but being okay with not touching? No. He knew better than that. Maybe this was just a Phil thing? He’d always been a bit of a romantic, and it wasn’t a stretch to imagine that the emotional love was more important to him than the physical love. “And he feels the same way?”

Phil’s smile faltered a little. “It’s harder for him because he’s having to live by my rules without really understanding them. I’ve told him there’s a Situation that needs to be resolved before I can consider breaking regs and it might take years. So he knows that, but it’s harder because he doesn’t understand the scope. But I think he’d rather have something than nothing. ”

“Alright. I don’t have to understand it to see that you want this. And as long as you keep your priorities straight I’ll do what I can to give you guys as much time together as possible.”

“Thanks Marcus, it means a lot to me to have your support.”

Nick snorted. “Well that said, if you ever decide your G-rated romance isn’t cutting it for you, I can still arrange the boy toy option for you. Barton would never have to know, and it would save you from dying of blue balls.”

Phil laughed. “You can be such an asshole, Marcus.”

Nick stood and tossed some bills onto the table to cover their meal and then some. They treated him well here and he always tipped accordingly. “Maybe, but I’m an asshole with a chance of getting laid if I want to sometime in the next twelve months. That’s a long time for a man to go with just his right hand, even at our age. And that’s not factoring in this weird look-but-don’t-touch non-relationship you’re starting which sounds like a hellish recipe for frustration.”

Phil stood and shrugged. “It is a little. But yesterday, I surprised him with a cup of coffee I made special for him with that awful coffee creamer he likes, and the way he looked at me,” Nick would swear Phil’s eyes were almost sparkling, it was fucking disturbing, “I felt like I could fly and arm wrestle Captain America at the same time. I know it was just a little thing, just coffee, but I swear that feeling is better than most of the sex I’ve had in my life. So yeah, I’ll take a G-rated relationship with Clint over sex with some boy toy any day of the week.”

Nick just raised an eyebrow at his friend. “You? Wrestle Captain America?”

Phil laughed. “Yeah, okay could never happen. But Clint might have been able to… Have seen his arms?”

Nick yanked on Phil’s arm and gave him a friendly shove towards the door. “That’s it. That’s my line. I draw the line at listening to you rhapsodize about Agent Barton’s arms. There are things I do not want to be thinking about the next time I debrief him and I’m sure whatever you are going to say next would be one of them.”

Phil laughed and held the door for the Pancake House open for Nick. “Well since you mentioned debriefing…”

Nick’s eye went wide. “What are you twelve? What the hell have you done with my respectable, responsible Senior Agent?”

Phil just laughed and the truth is that Nick was glad to hear it. It had been a long time, maybe years, since Phil had been relaxed enough to laugh like that and whatever else was going on, it made him feel good to see his best friend happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not ashamed to admit that I giggled myself silly about Nick's "vibranimum" comment. A lot of things have changed in the year I've been working on this fic, that line, has never changed!


	4. New Routines

**Interlude**

They separated before going to the office so they could be sure not to arrive together. Phil used the time to review their conversation and make sure he hadn’t missed anything or let anything slip. Overall he felt good about how things had ended up, but he was also confused.

On the one hand, it was nice to feel a like he had his friend back, but something was still off with Nick. And lying to Nick about having already read-in Natasha and Clint churned his gut a little. But Nick was not acting rationally and he couldn’t bring himself to regret trusting Clint. This would be better once it was over and eventually Nick would understand, and he was going to stick to his promise to keep the relationship with Clint platonic. It wasn’t ideal, there was literally very little he wanted more in this world than another opportunity to touch Clint; but, one of the things he did want more was the destruction of HYDRA, and he really didn’t want to lie to Nick more than he already was.

 

* * *

 

Things settled into a pattern after that. Strike Team Delta still had missions. Sometimes either Clint or Natasha would be sent out alone, but if all three were home, then at least one day of the weekend would be spent at Phil’s condo.

Phil looked forward to those days like shining beacons on the horizon; and, when he decided he needed help to make the weekends a little better, he decided to ask Melinda because they had once been close, he could trust her not to laugh, and he knew she wouldn’t tell Nick.

Phil caught up with Melinda at the gym and he could see the surprise in her face when he stopped to talk instead of just walking by with a friendly nod like they had mutually and silently agreed to for the last several years. The conversation was very one-sided.

“Hi Melinda.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“How’ve you been?”

She increased her weight limit and started another set.

“That’s good. You look good.”

She finished her set and moved onto the next station on her schedule.

“Remember when I moved off base about a decade ago and you and Nick bought me that great set of spices? Well it turns out spices expire and I’ve got some guests coming and I have no idea what to stock my kitchen with.”

“Your sister knows how you keep house, Coulson. You always order take out when she visits.”

“It’s errr, it’s not my sister.”

Melinda looked at him for the first time since this conversation started. “I’ll take you shopping. Meet me in the underground at 1830. I’m driving.”

“Thanks Melinda. Good talk.”

Melinda asked him how many guests and how long and when he said it was two people just for the weekends, she actually smiled at him and told him she was happy for him. He tried to protest that it wasn’t like that, they were just friends, but she just smirked at him and didn’t bring it up again.

He also bought a new sofa bed, and a new table that was more comfortable for Clint and Natasha to work at.

Phil learned to eat many different kinds of omelettes and Clint explained to him in painstaking detail about the difference between fetta cheese and goat cheese. Phil loved watching Clint cook and listening to him explain what he was doing. Clint’s passion for the topic, the way he gestured and insisted on feeding Phil samples, drove Phil to a point of distraction where he didn’t actually learn anything, but he loved that time with Clint.

They also worked hard. With Clint and Natasha’s help, the map started to come together. It was like a jigsaw puzzle he didn’t have a picture for, but he could feel the outline starting to take shape. HYDRA was embedded everywhere, but every cell of three had a connection to another cell of three and the more pieces they found the better they understood the strategy.

Natasha still had to remind Clint and Phil to get back to work sometimes, but they both followed the rules of ‘the rest of it’ and by silent agreement, Phil and Clint were never left alone in Phil’s apartment. When everything else felt crazy, those weekends were the best part of his life and he knew he wouldn’t give them up for anything.

 

Clint was finding the whole situation a little bit more frustrating. And he pushed sometimes. Touching Phil when he didn’t need too. Standing closer than was appropriate. Sometimes even just looking at Phil with a hungry gaze that he knew did things to Phil. But Agent Coulson was resolute, even in his own home, there was a line and it would not be crossed. The one concession Clint had gotten was that they hugged once each visit before Clint left. Those hugs were just like Marcy: too long, too intense, too close, more an embrace than anything as casual as a hug. Sometimes Clint thought they hurt more than they helped because they were always over too soon and left him aching for something more, but he wouldn’t give them up for anything.

He toyed more than once with the idea of finding someone else, just to burn off steam, or maybe to make Phil jealous. Something to push Phil into finding a way to make it work, even if was just on the weekends. Fuck! All he wanted was to feel him again, to touch him, to hear him lose control. He respected the severity of the HYDRA situation, but no one was going to know what happened in Phil’s bedroom and Clint was starting to think blueballs were a dangerous threat to his health that could not be cured by jerking off. After all, Phil had promised him there wouldn’t be anyone else, but he’d never asked Clint to make a similar promise… Clint tried that logic out on Nat one Friday night when he mentioned he was thinking of going out to a bar. Natasha didn’t even break a sweat sweeping his legs out from under him, tossing him onto the couch and threatening him with all sorts of violent bodily harm if he even thought about doing that to Phil.

So almost every weekend was a combination of work and social time. Clint loved the way Phil spoiled him: every visit there was a new gadget in Phil’s kitchen for him to play with, all of Clint’s favorite movies had made their way onto Phil’s bookshelves, new purple towels appeared in Phil’s apartment, and during the week Phil was just always around. Talking to Clint, asking him about his day, telling him a new joke he’d heard. Somehow without touching him, Phil was still able to make Clint feel like he was the center of his universe and it was a heady feeling that just made him love Phil more and want him more. It was exquisitely painful because he was both so grateful to have this and so desperate to have more that it made his heart hurt.

 

* * *

 

Phil and Nick had also settled into a routine of Monday morning breakfasts at the Pancake House. It was an easy way for them to touch base and didn’t rouse any suspicions. Nick had picked Mondays because it also meant he could check in and make sure nothing that had happened over the weekend that would require him to do damage control.

At first he’d come in every week thinking this was going to be the time Phil caved. He was either going to confess he’d taken things too far with Clint or ask for a reassignment to give himself some space. Nick had active contingency plans for both that were ready to go at a moment’s notice, but it had been almost two months and Phil seemed genuinely willing to maintain the status quo. His work on the HYDRA project also hadn’t suffered so Nick was willing to let things continue, but he still found Phil’s apparent contentment with the situation damn confusing.

“Are you really happy with how things are?”

Phil put down his cup of coffee and gave Nick a look he usually reserved for especially stupid baby agents, “Are you asking me if I want more with Clint than what I have now?”

Nick frowned. “You seem happy. It’s not a stupid question.”

Phil took another sip of his coffee. “I am happy, so that’s fair. However, I would be a hell of a lot happier if Clint was sleeping in my bed instead of the sofa bed when he stayed over. If I had it my way, he’d always stay over and I’d never let him leave.”

Nick gaped at him. “You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.”

Phil shrugged and wouldn’t meet his eye. “I think he’s it for me. I don’t know if he feels the same way, but even if I could never have more than what we have now, I’d take it rather than have a lifetime without him.”

“You’ve kissed him once! You can’t possibly know that after one kiss.”

Phil blushed and tried to control his heart rate but he could feel his ears turning pink.

“Cheeeese.” The warning was clear in Nick’s tone. “Is there something I need to know right the fuck now?”

“No, Sir.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Phil.”

Phil sighed. “Don’t freak out.”

Nick scowled at him and gripped his utensils tightly. “Nothing good has ever followed you telling me not to freak out.”

“The first time Clint stayed over, while we were suspended, I didn’t take the couch.”

Nick’s guffaw escaped before he could help it. “Cheese you sly dog! You’ve _never_ , in all the years I’ve known you, _not_ taken the couch in a situation like that.”

Surprise had won out, but Phil knew there was a battle between his friend and his boss taking place inside Nick’s head and he knew which side was going to win. Ever since his marriage had ended years ago, the same side always won so he didn’t bother responding to Marcus’ tease.

Sure enough, Nick’s face began to fall and the next sentence out of Nick’s mouth had Director Fury all over it. “You lied to me, Coulson. You lied to my fucking face.”

“It hasn’t happened since then, and I’m not going to let it happen again.” He looked Nick in the eye. “I’d had more to drink than he had and, I’m sorry, Sir. I know it shouldn’t have happened, I knew what I was risking and I don’t have a good excuse, but it really hasn’t happened since then.” His voice cracked, “He comes over every weekend and I look but don’t touch. It might kill me, Marcus, but I won’t give it up, not if there’s a chance I can help save SHIELD and have him at the same time.” He put his head in his hands. “I’m head-over-heels, daydream inducing, obsessively in love with him and I don’t know if he feels the same way, but I don’t think there is ever going to be anyone else for me. Not after him.”

Nick looked at him wide-eyed. Love confessions were just not something Phil did. Ever. For Nick, there had only ever been one person, one love of his life, but he’d lost that chance years ago – he couldn’t be the cause of putting his best friend through that. He just couldn’t. Stunned, Nick felt the Director Fury wrath just drain out of him. He said “Just the once, Cheese?” but it was a question now, it didn’t have any of the heat his previous accusation had.

Phil nodded and then shook his head. “There was the kiss in Marcy, the time while we were suspended, and one kiss in March.” His shoulders dropped a bit. He couldn’t read the look on Nick’s face, but not having to keep up the lie was a relief.”

“Fuck.” Nick scrubbed his hand down his face. “Okay. I believe you. And I’m sorry that you can’t be together and this is making you fucking miserable.”

“It’s not, Marcus. It’s frustrating as all hell, but it’s not making me miserable. I love having him in my life. Spending time with him, it recharges me.”

Nick just looked at him. Try as he might, Nick just could not figure out how to classify this ‘relationship’ between Phil and Clint in his head. Being just friends with Melinda had never been an option for him. When he loved someone that love consumed him and just seeing the other person was always a painful reminder of what he couldn’t have. Platonic friendship was never a possibility. Nick shook his head. “I think you’re a little crazy if this isn’t making you miserable.”

Phil shrugged. “He’s Clint. Even though we can’t be together the way I want, I’d always rather be around him than not.”

Nick eyed him consideringly. “Are you serious?”

Phil nodded. “I really am.”

Nick tapped his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “There is a situation in New Mexico that needs investigating. Jasper’s already left but I was considering sending you as well; and, a sniper wouldn’t go amiss…” Nick’s tone became all business, “There’s going to be a lot of surveillance so I want to be very clear on this point: I’m not giving you an out, you’d still have to follow the letter of the rules carefully even if you don’t think you’re being watched, but” Nick hesitated for only a second, “if you’d like the time together you two could drive down.”

Phil looked down at his plate and needlessly tidied his napkin and brushed the remaining crumbs on his plate together to give himself time to think.

It took Nick a moment to figure out why it was taking Phil so long to respond and when he did he guffawed, “You want to _ask_ him if he wants to go with you!” His tone was accusatory but the laughter took any heat out of it. “Hell Cheese, he’s still your asset. If you want him to go, you decide and he goes.” Nick couldn’t help but shake his head at his friend.

Phil didn’t look up from his plate when he said bashfully, “I do want him to come. And he’s the best sniper so tactically I want him to come. But,” he looked up at Nick through his eyelashes and Nick would swear his friend managed to shrink himself so he was two sizes smaller than he actually was. It was amazing how unimposing Phil was capable of making himself. “But I want the experience of asking him if he wants to come, and I want the choice to be his, and I want him to smile at me when he says ‘yes’, and I want the feeling of knowing I gave him that choice and he chose to come with me.” Phil sat up straight again, “If you ask me to make the decision as an Agent, I can give you my answer right now. But if you’re asking me as a friend what I want to do, I’d like twenty-four hours to talk it over with him first.”

Nick just shook his head. “Take your time, Agent. Invite your not-boyfriend if he wants to sit with you in a car for two days on a boring G-rated drive down to New Mexico. From what you say you’ve already established that he likes you too, so I think you’re being a little ridiculous, but,” he softened his voice a little and looked away, “I don’t have to understand it to see how much this matters to you. And as long as you keep your priorities straight I’ll do what I can to give you guys as much time together as possible.”

Phil smiled at him, “Thanks, Marcus.”

Nick shook his head again, “One of these days you’re going to have to explain to me how this not-relationship of yours works.”

Phil frowned a little, “It works because he’s Clint and I’d do anything for him and I’m sure he could find someone else if he wanted to, but he’s willing to wait for me.”

“That was _not_ an explanation, Cheese.”

Phil shrugged, “Maybe not everything has an explanation?”

Nick looked at him in disbelief, “Says the man who has claimed to be an atheist since he was ten?”

Phil laughed, “Well, when you put it that way, there probably is a combination of hormones, chemicals, and learned behaviors combining together to make it work; but what I’m saying is I don’t need to understand it to be okay with it.”

Nick grumbled, “I miss the old Cheese, the guy who believed in facts and numbers and thought Captain America was his dream man, that guy I understood.”

“Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife”

Nick raised an eyebrow at him, “I tried that once. It didn’t work. And did you really just cast yourself as Benedick?”

Phil laughed again, “I made you the Prince, the legal guardian of my fair love, and a man open to finding love for a second time.”

Nick groaned, “How did you ever find someone to put up with your cheesiness?”

Phil’s face softened into a look Nick was coming to associate very clearly with ‘thinking about Barton’. “I’m just lucky I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* I kinda love how Coulson keeps quoting Shakespeare. I wish I knew more Shakespeare so I could come up with more places to include it!


	5. Just Once More?

When he got to work he sent Barton an email inviting him out for lunch. Usually they would have eaten in the cafeteria or maybe gone to the take-out place down the street; but this time, Phil booked a table at the sit down Thai restaurant that was just a little further away. It was still a business appropriate place to go for lunch and they would be in public, but he could pick up the tab to treat Clint to lunch on his personal credit card. He knew they’d said ‘the rest of it’ was just going to be for Phil’s condo, but Nick knew now, so as long as they were very careful to follow the letter of the law, he could do a few nice things to Clint; to help make up for the lack of sex and make sure he knew just how special he was to Phil. Phil wanted to make him feel special every day.

The lunch went well. Clint was pleasantly surprised by the location and he only argued a little bit when Phil picked up the check. Then he was all smothered smiles and bashful looks until he got a hold of himself and they were ready to go back to work.

The drive down to New Mexico also went well. Agreeing had been a no-brainer for Clint. Two days and one night of alone, unsupervised Phil time? Clint couldn’t sign up fast enough. The disappointment he’d felt when Phil had explained that it really was going to be a no-touching trip had been sincere and when Phil had actually gotten them two separate rooms at the hotel, well that had made him feel like a puppy who got locked outside the bedroom at night and all he wanted to do was go paw at Phil’s door until Phil came to his senses and let him in. But Phil hadn’t even gotten them adjoining rooms and he knew the balance of ‘the rest of it’ was fragile at best, so he didn’t push. But he sure as hell jerked off that night imaging what the car ride could have been like if they’d be touching, and when he imagined giving Phil road-head while he tried to maintain his composure... well he came pretty hard that night. And he’s not a proud man, so the next morning in the shower it didn’t take much to imagine Phil knocking on his shower door to surprise him or to imagine Phil, having come to his senses in the middle of the night, waking Clint up with a spectacular apology blow job. Yep, in Clint’s imagination, the way the trip was going was pretty incredible.

But the reality wasn’t half bad either.

Travelling with Phil was easy. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they enjoyed the silence. Phil let Clint control the radio, so he played everything from hard rock to bluegrass depending on what he could find and what songs he knew. He had a good memory for lyrics and enjoyed singing along, even if he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. They shared stories about when they’d first heard classic songs and debated the merits of every kind of roadside food. Clint saw a sign for fresh sugar snap peas and insisted they pull over and buy a basket of them. Phil grumbled a little about the delay, but he couldn’t say no to Clint’s smile and, even while he grumbled, he knew he’d be taking the next exit.

Sitting in the car, Clint had to explain to Phil that he was supposed to eat the whole peapod, not just the peas inside. Phil was skeptical at first, but Clint insisted and was playfully pushing the peapod against Phil’s mouth when his lips brushed Clint’s fingertips. Phil had a visceral memory of the last time Clint’s fingers had been that close to his lips and how he had sucked and nibbled on every one of them. Their eyes locked and the light humorous feeling in the car was replaced by something more heated. Phil parted his lips and Clint slipped the peapod inside his mouth. It was crisp and sweet and refreshing, and Phil barely tasted any of it. He picked up a peapod from the basket and offered it to Clint. Eyes still locked, Clint licked his lips and nodded, wordlessly inviting Phil to feed him one.

They went through half the basket that way, feeding each other one peapod at a time. Fingers brushing against lips, sometimes lingering just a little to trace the strong line of a jaw.

Clint was the first to break the silence, his voice husky and just above a whisper, “Please, Phil?”

Phil broke their gaze and instead of grabbing another peapod, he took Clint’s hand. His voice was just as husky and quiet. “We can’t, Clint.” He held Clint’s hand and, unconsciously, his thumb started to run back and forth across his knuckles. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have started it.”

Clint shifted himself closer, licked his lips and looked right at him. “Please, Phil. There’s nobody around. Just one kiss.”

Phil couldn’t help the fond laughter that bubbled up from his chest. “It’s always ‘just one’ with you, darling.” Smile still on his lips he unconsciously started to lean towards Clint because he _wanted_ to kiss him, before he realized what he was doing. His smile turned a little bitter and he pulled away. “I’m sorry. We can’t. And I can’t break any more promises to Nick.” His eyes lingered on Clint’s lips for a long moment before he squeezed Clint’s hand and reluctantly let go. Phil settled himself properly in the driver’s seat, facing forward, and turned on the ignition. If his grip on the wheel was a little tight and if Clint spent more time looking out the window and less time talking, well, they both needed a bit of space to calm down.

The gas station was a nice distraction. Clint appreciated the donuts and he laughed at Phil’s story. They spent the rest of the trip trading stories about incompetent villains and trying to one-up each other on who’d had to fight the most incompetent foe.

 

* * *

 

Their arrival in New Mexico went precisely according to plan.

The logistics team was already set up and they were greeted by a baby agent with a clipboard. “Welcome Agent Coulson, Agent Barton. We’ve taken over the local Holiday Inn, but it’s a small town so we still have more people than space and even the senior agents are sharing at least two to a room. You two are sharing room 209.”

They didn’t have time to do more than give their bags to the baby agent before they were directed to meet with Agent Sitwell for a sit rep. Phil spent the day getting up to speed with everything and dealing with a brilliant rogue astrophysicist. He also put in a priority request to have Dr. Jane Foster and Dr. Erik Selvig hired by SHIELD. Minds like theirs could do brilliant things with the right funding.

When he finally got to his room he was exhausted and very ready to go to sleep. There was no sign of Clint so Phil assumed he had the late shift on watch and tried very hard to ignore his conflicting emotions about crawling into bed by himself. Years of practice let him turn off those thoughts and fall asleep quickly.

Years of practice also let him wake up instantly when light from the hallway spilled into the room and Clint returned. Phil tried very hard to be responsible. He’d shared a bed on missions with agents countless times. It was just something that happened and the unspoken protocol was that one person slept under the sheet and the other slept on top. Phil rolled over so his back was to the door and tried very hard to imagine that it was anyone else he was sharing a bed with tonight. He listened to Clint getting ready. Heard him drop his clothes all over the floor and place his back up bow carefully on top of the bureau. He heard Clint stretch and grunt a little as his tense muscles pulled tight and relaxed.

Then Clint was lifting up the sheets and Phil felt his hot body slide in next to his and Clint wrapped his strong arms around Phil’s chest. God but those arms made him think dirty thoughts.

His voice was huskier than he intended when he spoke. “We can’t do this, Clint. This isn’t part of ‘the rest of it’.”

Clint sighed. “I know. But we are here, literally in bed together. It’s practically SHIELD sanctioned and it was such a long road trip together.” He nuzzled a little closer and slipped his hands under Phil’s shirt and running them hungrily all over his skin and grazing his nails against Phil’s nipples.

Phil rolled over so they were face to face, partially to bring them closer together so they could whisper quietly but also to give himself some relief from the tease of Clint’s fingers on his chest. “These walls are little more than paper, Barton. I literally think they can hear the bed squeak in the adjacent rooms anytime we move.”

“I know.” Clint presses their foreheads together. “But we can still be here, like this. Just kisses and touches. Just this once. Nothing past second base. I promise.”

Phil huffed a silent laugh. It was always ‘just one’ with Clint. Just one more hour on the range, just one more slice of pizza, just one more kiss; God help him, but he found it endearingly adorable and it just made him love Clint more and made not having him hurt a little bit more. So instead of commenting on the ‘just this once line’ he said, “Really Clint, baseball analogies?”

“Please?” pleaded Clint.

It’d been hard, spending so much time so close to Clint, with no one else around, for the last two days. God knows it had required a strong act of will to get two separate rooms for them the night before, and the business with the food in the car had been ridiculous, but now, here they were, sharing a bed despite his best efforts. It had been so long and he had missed his archer so much. But he knew that this really couldn’t happen. Not here, not now. “We could get called out at any time and I can’t leave here with kiss swollen lips, Clint. We are already under the microscope, it’s already suspicious that we are paired together and there are a few agents here that we know are on our list,” he whispered. “If we get caught I will probably lose my job and with two sexual misconduct charges on my file, the only person who would hire me would be Stark.” Phil gave an exaggerated shudder and Clint stifled a chuckle.

“Okay. I won’t push.”

“Thank you. I know it’s not fair, Clint.” He whispered. “And I know we both want more. And maybe it’s selfish, but I’m still grateful to have you here tonight.” He gave Clint’s neck a chaste kiss and breathed in the smell of him. “Just having you in my arms.” He gave Clint a tight squeeze. “It makes me feel better than an hour-long massage. It feels like having a part of myself that was missing returned to me. I’ve missed touching you.” He held Clint close and rubbed his hands in circles on his back.

“Me too. These last few days with you... You are the best thing in my life.” He took a deep breath, “Phil, I’ve been wanting to tell you, I --”

Phil cut him off, “Don’t say it, Clint.” He gave in and gave him the slowest of chaste kisses, an entire breath of just their unmoving lips pressed together. “I know. And I do too.” His voice trembled “But I don’t think I could hear you say it and not _need_ more than we can have now.”

“Okay, Phil.” He gave him another very chaste kiss and then tried to break the tension with a soft “humph” and a light, “I think it’s hot enough you could reasonable be excused for sleeping with your shirt off.

He gave Clint a fond smile. “This is you not pushing, right?”

“I promise. Just for sleeping.”

“Ok.”

They settled in together, both fully clothed from the waist down, but after the long day, sleep came easily, both soothed by the sound of the other breathing beside them.

They slept so completely entangled in each other it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. They were both lying on their sides facing each other, Clint, using Phil’s arm as a pillow, had his head nuzzled against his chest and Phil had his head bowed down with his nose buried in Clint’s hair. They both had their arms wrapped around each other, skin pressed to skin and even their legs were entwined.

Phil once heard a myth that humans were born with four limbs and two heads and God split them in two so that they would spend their whole lives searching for their other half. If that were true, this must be what a fully-formed human look like before they were split. There wasn’t an ounce of space between them.

Phil was the first to wake up and in the half second before even Agent Phil Coulson could wake up completely, he instinctively rubbed his morning wood against the man beside him who was sporting an equally hard cock and moaned. Then his brain kicked in, stifled his moan, and tried to move his body away. But sleeping Clint, with his arms wrapped around Phil, was having none of it.

“No, don’t go,” mumbled Clint, “Stay babe, stay.” And he started to grind his cock against Phil’s.

“Clint,” murmured Phil. “Clint, I need you to wake up now,” as he gently shook his archer awake.

“Hmmm?” he was still languidly moving his hips against Phil’s and using his well-muscled arms to pull him closer.

“Barton, we’re on a mission. I need you to wake up now.” Phil kept his voice quiet but added a bit more urgency.

Clint stilled himself like the sniper he was and used all of his senses to assess the situation. He was drowsy but quiet. “Mission? Are we okay?”

“We’re in New Mexico and there are a lot of people nearby,” whispered Phil.

Clint gave a muted chuckle. “Right. Sorry about that, boss.” Clint said, blush slowly creeping up his cheeks.

“Don’t be.” Phil chastely kissed his forehead and blushed a little. “I started it when I was waking up.” Clint shifted back a bit to give them space. Phil felt the cool space between them keenly and frowned. “I know it’s not ideal,” he leaned forward, rubbed his nose against Clint’s and sighed. “But if you don’t mind the frustration, I could still enjoy just holding you while we’re awake.”

Clint gave him a dopey smile, “Yeah, I can do that,” and snuggled closer.

They cuddled cheek to cheek, whispering back and forth about the mission, what they thought the hammer might be, how Natasha was getting on with Tony Stark, which Captain America trading card Phil was looking for, and what dishes Clint wanted to try to cook next, until the alarm went off and they were forced to join the real world again.

Or as real as any world could be once they knew it included Thor, the God of Thunder.


	6. Not All Promises Can Be Kept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, and just a friendly reminder that this is just the last chapter in part two and this story has three parts.

New Mexico was the last time Phil saw Clint alone for several months. Everything, including HYDRA, was bumped down Phil’s priority list by the discovery of Captain America and a breakthrough on the Tesseract research. Clint was sent to a secret base in the Mojave Desert to provide surveillance and head the security detail on the Tesseract, and Phil was put in charge of integrating Captain America into the 21st century.

Heading the security detail was a prestigious position for Clint and it put in him charge of a number of other agents for a long-term project (which he wasn’t 100% certain he was ready to do, but his orders came from the Director and Phil had smiled at him and looked so damn proud, Clint just hadn’t had the heart to tell him he didn’t think he could do it.) So here he was.

He got used to the added responsibility of scheduling the security shifts and writing weekly reports, which turned out to not be too hard because: he was damn good at knowing what needed to be done to keep a place secure. The rest was mostly common sense and Coulson was the report master and he gave Clint feedback on all his reports before officially submitting them. After the panic wore off, it turned out to be pretty dull.

What sucked an unbelievable amount was not seeing Phil. They talked at least once a week to debrief and review Clint’s reports, but it was not the same. And knowing that Phil was spending an awful lot of time with the real-life Captain America (aka the original super hero; the spiritual foundation on which SHIELD was based; a man Clint was sure Phil had more than a few fantasies about; a man who was stronger than Clint and probably had arms that were even better defined than his; a man that Clint knew Phil thought was bisexual) was NOT helping.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if they could talk about more than work. Back in New Mexico, Clint was pretty sure Phil had wanted to say ‘I love you’, but he hadn’t actually said it, and now Clint was starting to wonder if maybe Phil had meant something else entirely? Maybe it was a good thing Clint hadn’t said it? It would have been hella awkward if Phil hadn’t wanted to say it back.

Clint thought about it for days leading up to his weekly call to Phil and planned what he was going to say exactly. Something completely innocuous that only Phil would understand was sentimental, something to break through the Agent Coulson facade just a little. So when they finished the formal part of the call he took a deep breath and he tried to make it sound as if it were a casual offhand remark: “The food here kind of sucks, I miss cooking in your kitchen.”

Phil took a moment to respond (which Clint thought was a good sign) but when he spoke his voice was the same as it had been for the whole call. He said “I miss your cooking”. But Clint couldn’t see his face and, to make it worse, Phil moved on to talking about Captain America (who, by the way, he was now calling Steve). Steve likes this. Steve asked about that. Steve and I did this. Steve and I are going to see a baseball game. Clint was getting royally sick of Steve. So a week later when Phil ended their next phone call by saying that he and Nick would be coming by for a site inspection the following week, Clint was over the moon. Especially because Steve was apparently busy with tech training and wouldn’t be able to join them.

 

* * *

 

Nick started giving Phil a side-eyed glare about half way through the flight to see Clint.

Officially it was a trip to check on the Tesseract; but, in Phil’s head, it was a trip to see Clint. And while his attention was 100% focused on the conversation he was having with Nick about the HYDRA infestation, he had caught himself smiling more than once; and, he was sure smiling while discussing a world security threat was not doing anything to improve the Director’s mood.

Eventually the Director gave up and closed the folder they were looking at. “I suppose I should be impressed that you are able to coherently talk about the HYDRA infestation while you are obviously thinking about something else?”

Phil’s smile faded again, “Sorry, Director.”

Nick sighed. “It’s okay, Cheese. Let’s take a break.” He opened the mini bar and poured them each a small drink. “How have things been with you and Barton?”

Phil frowned a little. “Good mostly. New Mexico was great. But I haven’t really been able to talk to him since then.”

“So is it Rogers or Barton that has you distracted today? Because I know there was a time when no one would have been able to eclipse Captain America.”

Phil blushed, “It’s not Steve. He’s amazing, and with the HYDRA situation, I couldn’t be happier to have Captain America on our team, but he was never real to me the way Clint is.”

“And now that he’s here in the flesh? Is he real to you? You have been spending a lot of time together.”

Phil nodded, “He’s real. And he’s just as impressive as I always imagined he would be, but he’s not…” Phil trailed off and fixed Nick with a piercing look. “Marcus, has the Director of SHIELD been dangling Captain Rogers in front of me as a distraction technique?”

Nick met his gaze head and looked only a little chagrined. “Yes.”

Phil frowned at him and said flatly, “It didn’t work.”

Nick grimaced and downed the rest of his scotch. “I can see that.”

Coulson straightened, “Director, I understand why you don’t like my attachment to Agent Barton, but if you actively work to subvert it again we are going to have an issue.”

Nick looked at him like he was an idiot, “Cheese, if it didn’t work with Captain fucking America, do you really think I could have any other cards in my hand that would be worth playing?”

Phil frowned. “That’s not the point, Nick.” Then a thought struck Phil and he felt like he’d been sucker punched to the gut. “Did you try something like this on Clint?”

“No.” Nick shrugged and met Phil’s gaze straight on. “When Captain America suddenly was an option, you can’t blame me for hoping you would pick the safer option. I thought about doing something similar with Barton, but… Hell Cheese. You’re my best friend. What you’re doing may be stupid and risky and confusing, but with it not being actually harmful,” Nick looked at the clouds out the window, “I couldn’t convince myself it was worth breaking your heart.” Nick sounded like it was a debate he’d had internally a lot “If it was anyone else... But if it was anyone else they wouldn’t be my right hand man so it wouldn’t come up.” Nick shook his head, “I still think you’re being stupid. But it’s six months of stupid where you haven’t gotten caught yet. Trust me, Cheese, I thought about it. But I know if you ever found out... well, trust matters in the field and since you and I are the only people on the field in the battle against HYDRA, I need you to trust me.” He leveled an authoritative look at Phil. “Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

Phil shook his head. “You really need help with your trust issues, Marcus.”

“No,” grumbled Nick, “I need a world with people who aren’t trying to kill us. Then I won’t have any more trust issues.”

Phil poured them both another drink. “It’s going to get better. At this rate, we’ll have a solid map by the end of the year, and then we’ll be able to start taking action.”

“That’s six more months, Cheese. A lot can happen in six months.”

Phil frowned into his drink. “Project Insight is not the answer, Director.”

“And with HYDRA moles likes a cancer within SHIELD we can’t risk it. I know. We’ve already had this conversation, Coulson.”

“Sir, regardless of HYDRA, pre-emptive strikes are not the right answer. It’s a slippery slope.”

“You think I don’t know that? SHIELD is supposed to keep the peace and protect the world from unknown threats. Burma burned because of a pre-emptive strike based on faulty intel. Cheese, you know I would never support that kind of plan. Between the two of us, we can save SHIELD and once SHIELD is HYDRA-free, we won’t need Project Insight. Just don’t go getting yourself fired before then and we’ll be fine.”

Phil took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He’d missed Clint so much the last two months, it had been like a physical ache that nothing could soothe. Six months was a long time and he was getting really tired of this conversation loop. “I know Marcus. Even if you didn’t remind me about it every time the topic came up, I wouldn’t forget. Protecting the world from unknown threats is my top priority and protecting SHIELD is a close second. But you must know by now that come hell or high water, I’m not going to give him up.”

“I know. You and your platonic sleepovers have made that very clear.”

Phil groaned in frustration. “Would you back off, Marcus? I know you don’t understand, but I looked forward to those sleepovers and not seeing him in two months has really sucked for me. I understand why the Director did what he did with Captain America, but you need to accept that I’m in love with Clint and start factoring that into your plans. I know we both put SHIELD first, but you’re also my best friend.”

Nick looked at him silently for a long time before saying, “Okay, Cheese.”

“I mean it, Marcus, not just words anymore.”

“When we land, you can use the plane to debrief with Barton. It’s the only location we can be sure isn’t being monitored. I can’t give you more than an hour, but you’ll be able to talk, or whatever you two do when you’re alone.”

Phil couldn’t decide which he appreciated more, the offered time with Clint, or the fact that it was the first time Nick hadn’t ended a conversation about him and Clint with a reminder about the danger they were all in. “Thank you, Marcus.”

Nick just grunted and resumed sorting through messages on his starkpad. “Don’t look at me with those big puppy dog eyes, Coulson, it’s fucking disturbing. Just email your not-boyfriend and ask him to meet you on the plane, would you?”

Phil smirked to himself and composed a proper email from Coulson to Barton. Nick was an asshole on the outside, but his heart was in the right place – sometimes he just needed a roadmap, a compass, and to be hit by a clue-by-four to remember where that was.

  


* * *

 

Fuck decorum.

Clint was waiting on the tarmac when Phil landed. Cognitively he knew that there were other people on that plane, but he didn’t give a flying fuck about them, he needed to see Phil again, to know that it wasn’t in his head, that what they had (as vague and undefined as it was) was real.

Fury and Hill were the first ones off the plane. They moved in sync with each other, Fury opening a door, Hill handing him a document, each having a perfect awareness of where the other was. It reminded Clint a little of him and Natasha. Clint waited. He waited for them to disembark, he waited for them to cross the tarmac, he waited for a sign that he could proceed. He breathed in and out and if he was anything less than a world-class sniper he would have been vibrating out of his skin with anticipation. Fury locked eyes with him and gave him a sharp nod.

Clint was off like a rocket. He knew he should be going slowly, but he couldn’t help himself. He raced across the tarmac and bounded up plane ramp. Inside the plane, down the hallway, up the stairs and in the boardroom on the left. No one got in his way and he made the trip in record time.

He burst into the room and Phil was just rising from his seat. A slow smile spread across his face until he was beaming at Clint and Clint couldn’t help but beam back. Separated by the length of the room and the boardroom table, their eyes locked and Clint had to fall back against the bulkhead to stop himself from rushing forward to touch him.

“Hi, Phil,” he sounded breathless. Why did he sound breathless? He hadn’t been running nearly enough to be out of breath. Phil was going to think---. His rambling thoughts were cut off by the soft timber of Phil’s voice.

“Hello, Clint.” Clint just smiled at him and he couldn’t have stopped smiling if he tried. Phil cleared his throat. “I, I know we usually wait until we’re saying goodbye… but I’d really like to hug you hello this time.”

Clint crossed the room with quick long strides before Phil finished speaking and had his arms wrapped around Phil before he had time to draw another breath.

Clint held him close and molded their bodies together, his heart rate slowing for the first time since he’d seen the plane approach.

Phil dipped his nose into Clint’s neck and breathed deeply. “It’s good to see you again.”

“I missed you, babe.” whispered Clint.

“I missed you too. Every day.” Phil tightened his arms around him and Clint felt his stomach sink because that was what Phil always did before he ended the hug, so Clint grasped him more tightly and refused to let go.

“Please, Phil.” He knew he sounded pathetic and whiny and he didn’t care. It had been two months of nothing, four months since they’d kissed, six months since there had been more than that, and he was sure as hell not letting go so soon.

Phil rubbed his hands in soothing circles on Clint’s back and Clint just wanted to purr into his touch. Phil’s voice was gentle, “We both know the rules, Clint. We can’t do this.”

Clint couldn’t believe Phil would be so cold to him. It had been months! “Please, Phil,” he pouted, “it’s been so long. Just one kiss?”

Phil squeezed him tight and took a shuddering breath. “I can’t, Clint. Maybe just one would be enough for you,” Phil’s voice cracked, “but I could never stop at just one with you. I want you too badly to be able to accept having you in small doses like that.”

Clint muffled his words in Phil’s shoulder, and hoped he didn’t sound too pathetic, “But you still think about us being more than what we are now, right? You still want me?”

Phil shifted his hips so Clint could feel the effect just holding him had on Phil. “All the time, darling.” Phil groaned and buried his face in Clint’s neck. “Oh the things I want to do to you, Clint.”

Clint whimpered and rocked their hips together. “Tell me, babe, please.”

Phil had to shift his hips away. He couldn’t handle Clint rubbing against him when he knew they would have to stop, but now that he finally had his archer back in his arms, it was so hard to let him go again. “Fuck, Clint,” he whispered, “would you ever let me tie you up?”

Clint groaned and melted a little into Phil’s embrace, “Oh god, yes please!”

Phil’s voice was hoarse, “I want that, darling. I think it’s because you’re always so far away; the idea of you not being able to leave…” Phil’s breath was hot against his neck. “I think about it all the time. I dream about tying you to my bed and keeping you there for hours. I want to fuck you fast until you come. Then I want to touch you, kiss you, and lick you everywhere until you are ready to go again, then I want to fuck you long and slow and tease you until you come just from me fucking you. I want to do it all over and over again. I want you on your knees sucking me off and looking up at me with those big blue eyes just begging me for more. I want to make love with you in the morning and go grocery shopping with you in the afternoons. I want it all, Clint.”

Clint was bursting with need. He needed more than he was getting now. Needed something more than promises to get him through this. When he finally found his words his voice was as broken as if he’d been crying “Please, babe, just one kiss. Show me you want me. I need it. I promise, I’ll stop us after one. Just one.”

The desperation in Clint’s voice almost broke Phil’s heart and he couldn’t say no, so he shifted his head, closed his eyes, and leaned in the final inch. Their lips just brushing together was like an electric charge and he couldn’t tell which of them made that keening noise. Then it was bruising pressure, clacking teeth, and greedy hands, desperate to touch more. He couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to. Every kiss with Clint was better than he remembered. It was like there was a maximum amount of pleasure he could remember experiencing and every kiss with Clint was a surprise because it was better than that.

Clint wanted to cry into the kiss. It was everything he needed to believe. Phil kissed him like he needed Clint to breathe and it was incredible. He let go of the tension that had been building up for months and let Phil ravish his mouth, let him bit at his lips, clutch at his arms and press him up against the wall. For the first time since New Mexico he felt at peace; and it took all his strength of will to push Phil away.

He’d promised Phil just one kiss and even if it killed him he was going to keep that promise. He’d never let himself be the guy who let Phil down.

Phil felt the cold air keenly and tried to push back to get more of his archer. But Clint had a good 50 pounds of muscle on his side and held them at a distance until Phil’s higher brain functions started to re-engage.

Clint was the first to find his voice, “Sorry, boss, just doing what I promised.”

Phil’s voice was painfully hoarse with need when he spoke. “We’ll find a way, Clint. I promise. When Nick and I go back to New York, I’ll talk to him and we’ll find a way to make this work.”

They put themselves back together and debriefed, sitting on opposite sides of the table, but there was nothing about work or the Tesseract to say that hadn’t already been said over the phone and they had one more hug before their hour was up. Phil whispered in his ear. “I meant it. When we are back in New York, I’m going to talk to Nick. I promise: I’m going to find a way for us to have more now.”

But Phil never made it back to New York.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Comments are love and hearing what you think makes me happier than anything so please, share your thoughts!


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